


That First Nice Day

by AcidGreenFlames



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-24
Updated: 2012-06-24
Packaged: 2017-11-08 11:49:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/442898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AcidGreenFlames/pseuds/AcidGreenFlames
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Wreckers are ordered to Earth. Ordered to remain at a cold, northern, boring base. Then the sun came out.  <br/>Won 3rd place in LJ Competition Fun contest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That First Nice Day

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by the fantastic Sunny (Brighter Then The Sun) Thank you!

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

()()()

Dirty, crusty snow still covered parts of the grounds that surrounded the building that was acting as a temporary Autobot base on the planet Earth. None of the remaining Wreckers really wanted to be there on that boring, smelly, organic planet, but, as it was, they had little choice in the matter.

They had been ordered there and there they would stay until they were sent elsewhere. To yet another planet, another battle field, another part of the war that seemed would never end.

Until that time came however, they were stuck on Earth. A boring planet where nothing of any interest ever seemed to happened. Even the battles on Earth, if they could be called that, were boring. Dry. Dull. Not what Wreckers were called in for. Not up to Wrecker standard.

This chain of events had led to a handful of very bored inactive Wreckers being stuck in one of the Northern bases awaiting orders for several weeks now. In the very short time they had been stuck there, surrounded by boring white snow, nothing of interest had occurred, not even a Decepticon attack.

This sudden inactivity had led to far too much interfacing and, if anyone had bothered to ask Springer, which of course they never did, in the most unique and awkward places throughout the base. How Blurr and Mirage, whom had been visiting from the Southern base, had managed to cram their massive frames into that tiny storage closet, Springer would never know. If he was honest with himself though, he didn't want to know. Like, at all.

There were also only so many times one could convince Roadbuster, the massive walking war machine, that making snow-angles was fun before the entertainment value staled, and if they all were forced to endure Blaster's ridiculously loud music for one more day, someone was going to die.

That was even before you mentioned Kup's constant need to fill the never ending boredom with his old war stories, Drift's surliness that would only be curbed by interfacing with Perceptor (Springer continued to shutter at the thought of finding them on the roof, and again didn't want to know _why_ they were interfacing on an ice cold roof), and no one being able to go out for a drive to blow off steam because of the sheer amount of salt. The combination of all this had all the Wreckers at each other's throats.

Human's would have called it 'cabin fever'. They were trapped in the small confines of the base with very little to do besides interface and fight for the most part. In the past few days Springer had been forced to pry more than a few mechs apart when the tension got to be too much for everyone and the fighting reached a breaking point. It was reaching a fever pitch fast, and if something didn't change someone was going to break.

That was just how it was, that was the norm, at least at first. The Wreckers had woken from recharge one morning, grumbling and snapping at each other as they had the days prior. They had prepared for the day, and what very little work that had to be done, by only drinking their ration of energon, then filing from the hanger that had served as their quarters only to freeze as they came outside.

All the mechs gasped collectively as they stared at the wonder around them. The night prior they had all gone to recharge miserable and cold, the awful, white crap that humans called snow had been piled in high drifts on the ground and salt caked the roads so thickly that it got into every nock and cranny of one's armour causing rust to form in the worst places. It was a sharp contrast to what they had left last night, to wake to a warm breeze that gently caressed cold aching armour.

Bright green grass edged out through the snow, breaking up the dirty substance with lush life and warm wind. Pure white snow fell with soft _plop, plop, plop_ 's from the trees in thick wet clumps.

Drift blinked in almost shock as icy cold water dripped onto the very tip of his nasal ridge, causing him to tip his helm back to look up at slowly melting icicles. He blinked his blue optics as another drop of water fell and hit right between his optics.

His attention was drawn back to the other Wreckers when Blurr's high pitched laugh suddenly rang out as his joyful optics twinkled happily at the new, _green_ surroundings. It was all so novel. The grass, the melting snow, the fact that the humans hadn't drowned the road in rust causing salt. It was all so, so _different_.

Blurr laughed again, whooping in joy and before anyone could stop him, he was gone. Running in a flash, his long lithe body pushing as hard as it could as he leapt happily over melting snow drifts. He easily wove around thawing trees, his pedes effortlessly digging into the soft mucky ground left in place of the gradually dissipating snow.

Mud splashed up his blue legs, but the former racer couldn't bring himself to care. He could run again without the fear of slipping on ice; he had traction once again and he slagging loved it.

Springer was about to call Blurr back, to rein him in, to focus on the day's work, however little there was of it to do, when Perceptor let out a soft 'oh' as something caught his attention.

The sniper wandered off to whatever had captured his attention, and after a moment, Drift silently moved to follow. Springer sighed, about to call them back as well when Roadbuster and Blaster saw their own chance to escape and took it.

With a quick glance at each other, the pair bolted in a very undignified way for Wreckers, each headed in different directions so as to make it more difficult to track them down in the event that Springer was going to try and actually make them work.

Springer made an annoyed noise, getting ready to rein his mechs back in, when a teal hand dropped lightly on his shoulder. The bright green mech prepared himself for the long winded story that Kup no doubt was about to tell, when he was surprised by the older mech's soft, "Leave 'em be Springer. Some day's even we need to just...well as the humans say 'sit back and smell the flowers.' Let them have a day. It's good for the spark."

Springer sighed as warm wind danced over his warming frame for the first time since they had come to the freezing base. After a moment of considering the old mech's words, the Wrecker's leader gave a small nod of agreement, "Alright Kup. One day."

Shoving his ci-gar to the other side of his mouth, Kup gave the younger a crocked grin, "Come on. Let's go enjoy the weather while it lasts."

Springer gave a small nod as he fell in line beside his mentor, his tense frame relaxing as the sun shone down on the Earth; he could still hear Blurr's happy laughter bouncing off the green pines, lifting his spark just a little more.

Happy days like this were few and far between, especially for the Wreckers. Prowl would be aggravated, no doubt; but the tactician also wasn't stuck in the middle of slagging nowhere with a handful of trigger happy _children_ that were bored out of their minds, now was he?

"Ya know this weather's nice. Not as nice, of course as this one planet..."

()()()

That was how Perceptor had found himself crouched down over a small group of shoots, his tracking optical zooming in closer to the small, bright green stalks to get a better look. He had never thought to use said zooming techniques when sniping was not involved, but suddenly the former scientist was indeed very happy he had.

All around him, small piles of snow surrounded the stalks, almost like invading armies, trying to reclaim the green land and kill the small shoots that were fighting to live. A small frown suddenly tugged at Perceptor's serious face and for reasons even he couldn't figure out, the sniper shoved the snow back further, creating a wider circle of green, wet grass around the stalks.

It made no sense to do that. It was highly illogical in fact; after all these planets had survived this long without help and they certainly didn't need his. If the snow covered them again, they would continue to hibernate until the snow retreated for good. That was the way of things. It was normal and natural.

Yet...

Yet, Perceptor couldn't help but to shove even more snow away from the stalks until he found ice beneath the snow and he could shove no more away. The bulky red mech settled on his knees, pressing the joints into the cold, muddy ground to watch the plants again, satisfied for some reason that the danger had been pressed back just a little further.

Maybe he really was losing it in this war, he mused to himself. Worrying and caring about flowers when there were far more important things to be worrying about.

The stalks, however, had fought their way to the top, when they should have died beneath the winter snow. They clawed at life, knowing that no one but itself would help it, that its life would be cold and hard once it reached the surface, when so many others had no doubt perished in the endeavor. So why couldn't Perceptor give a helping hand, just this once? Even if it made him crazy.

Besides, the small plants that looked so delicate, that had fought to the surface despite having to fight and conquer a much stronger foe, kind of reminded him of-

Perceptor's train of thought was cut off when a soft, wet, cold ball slammed into the side of his helm. It hadn't hurt and wasn't supposed to, but the shock of the cold snow slipping in behind the tracking lens caused the sniper to tense.

He bowed his blocky frame over the stalks to protect them from any other volley of snow should it be thrown as he shook the snow from his helm. Once he could see properly, the red and teal mech turned his helm to glare at the one who had thrown the snow at him.

Drift was grinning with a Cheshire grin that he only ever let Perceptor see as he easily tossed another ball of snow into the air and caught it.

Perceptor sighed as he continued to glare at the smaller, white mech. Drift tilted his helm towards the sniper, the sun gleaming off his bright white armour, small twinkles of light reflecting off the long, tall apex of his audio receiver...

The sniper forced himself not to shutter at the sight of the mech through will alone. If Drift saw what his presence alone could do to Perceptor, how he could get him so revved up. Not that the former scientist would have complained, but the small sprouts would be crushed beneath their powerful bodies and the long hard struggle they went through would have been for not.

Instead, Perceptor frowned at the swordsmech, "Was that truly necessary?"

The grin turned sharper as Drift narrowed mischief filled optics towards his lover. With another easy toss of the ball of snow, which Drift easily caught, the white mech replied, "It achieved my goal."

Shaking his helm, Perceptor turned his attention back to the plant beneath him, determined to ignore his lover when he was in a mood such as this. Everyone seemed to be in a foul mood as of late, so it was nice to see something other than irritation. However, Perceptor was no fool, he was far from it in fact, and that mischievous look in Drift's optics was never a good thing.

Drift frowned as the sniper turned his attention back to whatever had captured his attention in the first place, his light blue optics dimming slightly, a little put out. The white mech, however, was nothing if not persistent.

"It's funny, you know." He paused waiting to see if Perceptor would rise to the bait and was met with disappointment when he did not, "we went to recharge with the snow hard and crusty. But now, it's heavy and wet. Makes it much easier to pack into a ball."

The former scientist perked up a little, tilting his light grey face plates to the other, his optics on the ball of snow. Drift internally purred, his plan to get the others attention was succeeding, "Yes, it is rather fascinating. It must have been the sudden warmer night that has melted the snow enough to,"

The mostly red mech suddenly stopped his chatter, cutting off whatever he had be planning on saying. A small bit of disappointment curled within Drift's spark; he had heard that the sniper had once been overly chatty where science was concerned. The hard part was getting the taller mech to shut up, supposedly.

That handful of excited chatter was the most Drift had ever heard the other speak outside of their cramped quarters as Perceptor always preferred to be silent and in the background. It was like seeing a small glimpse of who Perceptor had been before war and pain had hardened him into the sniper he was today.

Drift desperately wished to bring that side out again, even for just a little bit. As Perceptor turned his lightly colored face plates back to whatever had managed to capture his interest, Drift dropped the snow ball with a gentle plop.

Trudging over to where his lover knelt with cold mud splashed up his legs, Drift paid it little mind as he came to a stop at Perceptor's side. The white mech opened his mouth to say something when Blurr's laughter rang closer to the pair, drawing their attention to the overly happy mech.

A blue flash sped across the ground, Blurr's pedes slapping into the soft, muddy ground hard. The other two Wreckers watched as the other shot out across a frozen pond; he stopped, locking his legs suddenly to slide across the ice, giggling like a sparkling the whole time.

Blurr's sudden weight on the thin ice however, produced the most unfortunate set of events for the former racer. Perceptor and Drift watched in mild amusement as the ice gave out from under the blue Autobot. Blurr yelped, high pitched and very femme-like, as the icy water flushed across his overheated armour, flooding into the sensitive joints and transformation seams.

" _Coldcoldcold!_ " Blurr hissed as steam from his super-heated frame rose from the frozen waters. The Wrecker tried to pull his frame from the lake only to have the ice again give out under his servos, landing chest deep into the waters once more.

Another yelp came from the former racer, and Blurr quickly scrambled from the water, breaking up the thin ice as he went. Perceptor and Drift watched with growing amusement, although their faces betraying nothing, as Blurr pulled himself from the lake and shook the water from his frame.

He heaved a shuttering sigh before bolting off again, although both the swordsmech, and the sniper, were sure it was to heat his joints again rather than for the fun of running.

Without another word, Perceptor turned his face back to the sprouts by his knee, still fascinated by the plants will to live. While the mostly red mech watched the plant, Drift watched him, his black servos twitching. He still wanted Perceptor's attention.

They had so few free days in the war, fewer still that were as nice and warm as this one. The fact that Springer had not dragged them all back to complete the days tasks could only be chalked up to Kup. It had to be, there was no way Springer would have done this without some gentle pushing.

It was not meant to be wasted on kneeling in the muddy ground being boring. Who knew when Springer would give them all the day off again? Drift needed to bring his lover's attention back to himself, fast.

Heaving a sigh, Drift set his shoulders, "What's so interesting?"

Still not looking up at the other, and bothering Drift more than he was willing to admit, Perceptor's gentle voice reached the white mech, "A group of shoots."

"Shoots?" the former Decepticon couldn't keep the sarcasm and disbelieve from his voice. Perhaps, even just a little bit of hurt.

Whatever Perceptor heard in the other's tone, it caused him to look back up at the other, "Yes, shoots. It is quite fascinating."

The other sighed again, moving around his lovers blocky frame to crouch beside Perceptor with his heavy elbows resting on his armoured thighs, "And what, pray tell, is so special about these little shoots?"

"Nothing."

If at all possible, Drift deflated, just a little more, "Nothing?"

"Nothing really." Perceptor's face tilted to Drift's to see his disappointed look. A soft sigh, and Perceptor moved his servo to point at the sprouts, moving carefully so as to not disturb the greenery. "Just look Drift," he began, and Drift turned his attention down to the small plants for the first time.

He squinted at them trying to see them from Perceptor's point of view, see something besides the useless, stupid plant. He didn't, and that bothered him for some reason.

"It's just a plant." The great swords barer said quietly, trying to keep his annoyance from his tone.

A gentle, easy tilt to his helm told Drift that Perceptor had heard his aggravation, and the sniper took a patient breath, "It is just a plain plant Drift, but look at how hard it fought to survive. The snow has just abated, and these little sprouts are already almost an inch tall."

The white mech canted his head, the movement sharp and quick, his audio spires swishing through the air as he regarded the sniper. He stayed silent and allowed Perceptor to continue, "Can you feel how cold and hard the ground is, compared to the soft and almost delicate sprouts? Think about it, it had to fight its way to the surface just to see the sun. Its. Well it's sort of amazing, if you think about it."

The white mech twisted his helm the other way as though to look at the sprouts at a different angle, "They must have either sprouted just before it snowed or they sprouted with the snow still on the ground, when the temperatures began to change. It's beautiful really. This planet's natural balance of give and take, life and death, strength and weakness. It's amazing."

Drift couldn't help but grin a bit at his lovers excitement, so very little brought out this kind of happy joy in Perceptor and the white mech was determined not to ruin the other mech's mood.

"I suppose." Drift said softly, making himself more comfortable, kneeling in the cold mud beside his lover, not minding in the least how it dirtied his armour.

Warm wind caressed the thick armour of the two mech's, relaxing them in ways they hadn't been able to in days; Perceptor reached out a servo to Drift's, interlocking his digit's with the former Decepticon, giving a gentle squeeze.

Perceptor was trying to tell him something without saying the words, Drift knew. He just couldn't grasp what that something was. The white mech concentrated on what Perceptor was not saying, trying to figure it out, "What kind of plant do you think it is?"

A red shoulder came up in a gentle shrug, "Don't know. We'd have to ask Hound something like that."

An awkward 'Oh' was Drift's answer. He still didn't get what Perceptor was trying to say, but he was determined to figure it out.

A comfortable silence fell between the pair, Drift's thumb brushing over Perceptor's knuckles gently as he thought about the little sprouts just in front of Perceptor's knee.

He thought about their struggle for life, fighting hard to the surface of the cold ground to finally reach the warmth of the outside. To feel the sun on their small bodies, the warm wind dancing with them; that was their just reward for their hard battle and struggles. Time in the sun. Happiness. Joy.

The little plants struggles were worth it in the end as they would get what they deserved, what they needed after a long, hard struggle. After the battle, the fight to survive...

Oh. OH! Well duh.

Alright he got it. Cute Perceptor.

The white mech smirked at the other, squeezing Perceptor's servo. The mostly red mech smiled gently, keeping his face tipped down in embarrassment, "I suppose it makes me a little crazy."

Drift laughed gently, brushing his thumb along Perceptor's knuckles again, "I like it." He paused, looking down at the soon to be flowers and smirked. With an exaggerated sigh, the white mech added, "They are rather pretty, I guess."

Drift could feel Perceptor's frame heat from his own embarrassment at the illogical thinking, and it endeared Drift all the more. Perceptor cleared his throat, "I find the whole thing beautiful. The struggles makes the sprouts stronger, better."

"Worthy?"

Perceptor could hear the hope in his lovers tone then, something the sniper knew Drift would never admit to even under pain of death. Despite his outward confidence, Drift was still so, so self-conscious of his actions. Still so unsure in his place among the Autobots.

Perceptor's opinion mattered far more than Drift would ever admit. "Very worthy," he assured.

The white mech gave a small nod, ignoring how tight he squeezed the others servo.

Wing, it still hurt to think of the white jet, had said much of the same things to Drift. Wing had of course been much more elegant in his wording than Perceptor had been, but the meaning had touched Drift the same none the less.

Softening against Perceptor's taller frame, Drift gently leaned into the other, "Thank you." He said gently, breaking whatever spell had been hiding what the two mech's had actually been talking about.

A true smile twitched over light grey lips before returning to its neutral serious face, "You are welcome Drift."

The newest Wrecker tipped his face up to Perceptor's to steal a soft kiss before turning his attention back to the small sprouts sitting innocently by their knees.

"Very worthy." Perceptor repeated.

Drift, couldn't help but smile.

()()()

Springer watched Perceptor and Drift interact and not understanding at all what was going on. They were talking about some stupid little plant that Perceptor had found in the snow, and had spent the last breem going all googly eyed on him.

The green Autobot sighed and shook his head. His team was so messed up. Ah well, as long as their performances didn't degrade, what did it hurt.

Turning around, Springer left the pair to themselves. He needed to make sure Blurr didn't fall into another pond again; his joints had ceased when they froze the last time that had occurred. Giving his helm another shake, the Wreaker went off to find his subordinate.


End file.
